


Rotten Work

by tupti



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Bathing/Washing, Caretaking, Fluff, Forehead Touching, Foreshadowing, Hair Washing, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Soft Boys, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:15:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25069012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tupti/pseuds/tupti
Summary: ‘I’ll take care of you.’‘It’s rotten work.’‘Not to me. Not if it’s you.’Inspired by this: https://koenig-im-norden.tumblr.com/post/613138632936669184
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 12
Kudos: 130





	Rotten Work

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like this quote fits their relationship extremely well, so I wanted to give it a little scene to go with it. It’s the first time Jaskier washes Geralt’s hair.

It had been one of the grimier days.

Gerald had crawled across the muddy riverbanks and through the icy swamp waters of the Yamurlakian forests for hours before he had found those bloody werewolves. The fight had been messy and now Geralt came stumbling back to the inn covered in blood and guts and mire. He ignored the stares as he made his way through the parlour. These people always wanted their monsters gone, but they never wanted to see how it happened.

Caught up in his resentful ruminations, he almost missed it. Just outside the door of their room Geralt became aware of the smell of clove and sandalwood emanating from inside. A tired smile crept across his chapped lips. Somehow, Jaskier always seemed to know when a day required a bath. If he hadn’t known any better, Geralt would have thought him psychic.

He quickly wiped the smile from his lips to regain control over himself, before he entered the room. It was hot in there. A steaming tub waited for him next to a crackling fireplace and only then did Geralt notice that he was, in fact, chilled to the bone. Winters got so frosty up north that they bit deep, even into a witcher’s skin.

‘You’re late.’

Jaskier was lounging on their shared bed and looked up from his notebook with practised disinterest. After a moment of taunting silence, he smiled and winked at Geralt. ‘But since I’m used to your tardiness by now, the water’s still hot. You seriously smell like you need it.’

‘Hmm.’

Geralt peeled himself out of his sullied armour and undergarments, trying desperately not to appear too eager, and finally slipped into the tub. He bit back a sigh as the warmth embraced him and chased the icy coldness from his body.

‘I’ll come out of here smelling like a girl,’ he mumbled while he let himself sink deeper into the water and breathed in deeply. He’d sooner die than admit that he loved the spicy scents that surrounded him.

Jaskier huffed and sat up. ‘First of all, don’t be sexist – it doesn’t suit you. Second of all, I will not be sleeping next to you while you reek like something that died in a swamp, so suck it up, big man.’

To hide his smile, Geralt dove down beneath the fragrant surface. There, removed from the world, he let out a big sigh. He relished the quiet under water. Just for a moment he felt like he didn’t weigh anything, like the weight on his shoulders didn’t weigh anything… He could have stayed here for a lot longer, but he didn’t want to worry Jaskier, so he came up again, brushing the wet hair from his face as he breached the surface. His fingers got stuck in the tangled-up mess. Irritated, he started to pull at the knots. Since patience with himself wasn’t something he cultivated, he soon started to tear on the strands, even making himself wince a few times.

‘Geralt, stop!’ Jaskier put away his notebook. ‘You’re making it worse. Here, let me.’ He walked over to the tub and reached for his hair, but the witcher backed away, more out of surprise than anything else.

Indignantly, Jaskier crossed his arms in front of his chest. ‘If you continue like this, you’re going to pull out all your hair. Then I’ll have to sing about the Bald Wolf instead of the White Wolf and I don’t know about you, but I don’t feel that’s quite as poetic.’

‘I don’t need you to _do my hair_.’

‘Yes, you do.’

Geralt growled. ‘It’s dirty.’

‘I am perfectly aware of that.’

‘You’re too...’

He quickly stopped himself and Jaskier questioningly raised his eyebrows.

‘Yes? Too what? Too dainty?’

The witcher averted his gaze. _Clean. Pure. Fair._ Those were the words that had sprung to his mind and which he could never say.

‘Something like that.’

Jaskier snorted. ‘Yeah, right. How many years have I been on the road with you? Five, give or take? You should know better by now.’ He squatted down opposite of Geralt, arms resting on the rim of the tub. Deep blue eye’s searched Geralt’s, wide open and vulnerable. ‘If you let me, I’ll take care of you.’

Fear rose in the witcher, although he didn’t know of what, and smouldered in his stomach. He swallowed hard. ‘It’s rotten work.’

‘Not to me. Not if it’s you.’

Geralt’s breath caught in his throat. There was nothing but truth in Jaskier’s eyes and it made his heart twist painfully. He didn’t deserve this devotion, this loyalty the bard offered. He was only going to pull him down into his darkness, into all his ill luck and bad decisions.

And still, he didn’t protest any further as Jaskier walked around the tub and out of his field of vision. The witcher could hear him stop behind him and a heartbeat later, gentle fingers combed through his hair. Geralt’s eyes fluttered close unwittingly, his chin sank to his chest to give the bard better access. As fingernails carefully scraped his scalp, a comfortable sigh escaped his lips and all of his fears escaped his heart. Strands slowly untangled, one by one, and with them, the doubts in his mind untangled. Nobody had ever been so close to him, touched him with so much tenderness and sincerity, and Geralt allowed himself to not think of how it could go wrong, but to just feel.

After his hair was taken care of, Jaskier’s hands worked their way down his neck to his shoulders and gently massaged them into relaxation. After a while, soft lips tickled Geralt’s ears with a husky whisper. ‘I’ll be here for you, always, if you just stop sending me away.’

The witcher turned his head to look at Jaskier who crouched right behind him and searched his face eagerly for any reaction. Even though Geralt was sure that he hadn’t moved a muscle to betray his feelings, the bard smiled and leaned forward to touch their foreheads together.

‘I’ll get you wet,’ Geralt whispered and winced at his own stupid words.

But Jaskier just laughed sweetly. ‘That’s alright. I’ll dry off again, and so will you.’

The witcher smiled and finally allowed himself to rest his head against Jaskier’s chest. He didn’t even startle as the bard pressed a gentle kiss to his hair.

‘I’ll take care of you, if you only let me,’ Jaskier promised once more, and this time, Geralt didn’t object.


End file.
